


The World Will Never Know

by Harbinger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Past Character Death, hinted suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harbinger/pseuds/Harbinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearly a century after Maria Hill’s death, Loki finds himself injured and weak and turning to old enemies. Instead of facing death at their hands, he instead comes to terms with some parts of his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Will Never Know

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set before the events of Through the Ghost and set within the verse where Loki and Maria have been together for some time. You do not need to read Through the Ghost first to really understand this fic. Keep in mind that this is based almost a century into the future and that Loki had gone through a lot, hence the somewhat OOC feel of him. Comments and thoughts would be loved.

Some part of his brain recognized that part of his trouser leg was on fire but the other parts of his brain were currently a lot more worried about the two massive fire demons bearing down on him. In the seconds between him seeing them and them reaching him, Loki had just enough time to reflect that he was an  _idiot_  for abandoning armor for robes and realized that he was, in a word,  _fucked_. 

He took a fighting stance, called daggers to him, and let two fly as the monsters ran at him. The creatures were huge; hulking beasts even larger than a fully grown Frost Giant, easily fourteen to sixteen feet tall. They looked to be made of molten lava, save for the hard rock on their shoulders, neck, part of their torso, and covering where their groins would be if they didn't spring up from the ground in some weird parthenogenic manner of birth. All in all, they were enemies that Loki really did not want to fight but he'd been utilizing so much magic recently that now he had no choice but to stand his ground.

One dagger sunk into the taller of the pair's forehead and  _literally_  sunk in; Loki watched as the blade melted, streaming molten mercurial metal down the demon's face. It did not even seem to notice the impact. The second dagger missed completely, which was rare - Loki generally did not miss if he truly wanted to hit a target. He decided to abandon that line of fighting. 

And then a tongue of fire licked towards him and Loki leapt back only to sink down into the hot muck of Muspelheim, yelping out in startled pain. He twisted around to get out of it and back onto more solid terra firma, mouth a thin, pale line of pain. Loki knew he was in over his head, knew that this was a place he really did not want to be in and knew that at best, he was going to get his  _ass royally handed to him_  and at worst, die.

He spun a spell, flashing it up towards the orbs that glowed unholy scarlet with a pupil of burnished ember, snarling out his rage. He could feel heat lapping at his leg, eating through the leather and metal squares that normally offered some protection to his legs - now, all it was doing was boiling his blood beneath flesh that was screaming in pain. Already it had become difficult to breathe; the heated atmopsheric gases seared his nasal passages and throat from where he panted, making his respitatory system struggle to properly gain air.

Thankfully, the spell did its job and the larger of the pair was momentarily blinded by green energy. Loki reached for his elemental powers, calling on the wind to blast the creatures back and away from him. He needed water - water, the mortal enemy of fire, water that he could turn to ice with just a thought. Yet this was a realm of fire and water was a rarity, as it was not needed by the inhabitants of this desolate hel. He needed something, that was for certain.

_Think, Loki, think. What else can defeat fire?_

He knew for certain of thing he could do that might help. He could drop his glamours, take on his Jotun form, where he could call ice to his very skin but he knew the risk that ran. He knew the risk from flammable liquid being poured over him and then lit by the Chitauri when they had discovered this vulnerability. He still had terrible burn markings on his shoulders and back from that particular encouragement for him to do what they had wanted. But he could do it - ice and cold and water could defeat fire. But did he want to take so great a chance against such opponents?

As it turned out, the fire demons took the choice from him and made his decision much easier. The monsters charged him again and Loki let his skin bleed to blue, let his eyes darken to carmine - arms spread and aloft, mouth a slash of a smile, ever having a flair for the dramatics. He flung out his left hand and watched with a gleeful grin of malice as daggers of ice ranging from as thin as a toothpick to as large as a small rapier went flying towards the monsters. They yelped in startled pain but it was not much and he watched as the ice melted almost immediately.

_I am screwed_.

Many things Loki was but a coward was not one, despite what nearly everyone on Asgard had always said. The fact that he was facing certain death did absolutely nothing to deter him; indeed, the idea only made him move all the more - because at least if he died here then it meant he and Maria would be reunited at last. The simple fact remained, however: he was one against two and not at his strongest, not to mention fighting out of his element. Loki and fire - especially this amount of fire, where it tore at his body and made him ache, god of it or not  - was not a good combination and it showed in the pain that began to slow his movements as he collected burns. 

Noxious fumes gathered in his lungs, burning the porous lining and Loki knew if he did not get out of here soon, he might meet with his death here on this desolate realm. Yet he knew he was running low on time, magic, and options. He'd collected half a dozen bad burns or more in the time (minutes or hours, he knew not) that the battle had been going on and was no closer to defeating his opponents than he had been when the fighting had first begun. They were fed by the flames and lava around them, while the heat and the fumes sucked the fight out of Loki. It occurred to him that perhaps he should simply let them have the killing blow.

But when had Loki ever taken the easy way out?

Asgard's dark prince had always prided himself on being fast and yet his speed failed him now. A massive hand stretched out and grabbed him, temperature lessened so that he was not immediately engulfed in flames and still he screamed in pain. The hold on his torso was a painful reminder of being grabbed by the Hulk time and time again in various battles before, when destroying the Avengers and SHIELD had been his only priority in life. But instead of large fingers that were only slightly warmer than human skin, digits that made his skin scald held him and in a desperate attempt to protect himself, he shifted instinctively back to his Aesir form.

Loki threw out his right hand, hoping that a blast of energy might make the demon drop him but instead, the other one grabbed his arm. The demon shoved a blade made of obsidian and glowing faintly crimson with the heat it gave off through Loki's palm, wrenching a scream of pain from the god. The scent of burning flesh wafted into the air and the contents of Loki's stomach heaved and then and there he swore that if he got out of this alive he would never again even  _consider_  touching meat. 

The demon twisted the blade, pulling another pained, weakening scream from the wounded god's throat.  _Just put it through my throat! Please!_  He thought, thrashing in desperation. Then the monster abruptly wrenched the obsidian dagger up, splitting Loki's hand open from heel to the webbing between his middle and index fingers. Blood squirted out from the terrible laceration though the sheer amount of heat that emanated from the wound cauterized it almost instantly. The pain was so great that Loki's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell unconscious, limp in the giant's grasp.

The fire demon holding him dropped him, looking down at him through those glowing eyes. They did not have intelligence beyond mindless killing and did not realize that Loki, in fact, still lived. They simply realized that their plaything had stopped moving, had stopped making pretty colours, and wasn't screaming anymore. As such, the two demons lost interest in the dark god and left him there, burnt and bleeding, his right hand all but useless.

Loki drew in an agonized breath as he came back to consciousness, confused and hurting and feeling as though he was on fire - which he was. Fire licked almost playfully at his leg and at his side, burning through the leather and silk that he wore. He coughed, breathing in a raspy breath and staring around. The demons were no where to be found - he was utterly alone. He could have lain there, could have let the fire eat him alive, could have let Hela take him to Maria but Loki wasn't ready yet. Another cough expunged itself from him and he let the last real spell on himself fall away, revealing himself to Heimdall.

"Heimdall, please," he whispered, voice barely audible. But the Bifrost roared just seconds later and the last thing Loki saw was the gilt innards of the Observatory and Heimdall running to him.

\--

"He's coming around."

Loki made a face, the soft voice sounding terribly loud in his ears. Blood rushed, low and steady, a constant hum in his ears and at least he knew he was, in fact, alive. He remembered, faintly, calling out for Heimdall to open the Bifrost and bring him to Asgard, but nothing after that. Asgard - Loki knew the risks, he knew that coming here for help had meant running the chance of an immediate execution, there and then on the spot whether he was conscious for it or not, but it seemed as though a killing blow had been stayed. At least, for the time being.

Loki didn't open his eyes just yet but instead allowed his senses to take stock of his situation firstly. He could tell quite easily that he was in the healing rooms of Asgard; he'd been in them often enough to know the way a footstep echoed, how a voice bounced off the walls, even the energy in the room. His torso and back hurt badly and he could feel a cooling salve on his skin, wrapped under bandages. What worried him most, however, was that he could not feel his right hand at that moment.

Finally, he allowed his eyes to open and found that he was absolutely not surprised in the slightest to find himself looking up at Thor. The elder god's crystal blue eyes were dark with worry for the injured fugitive but Loki saw no sign of malice, no hint of a threat. It did not make him relax in the slightest, however. Just because Thor currently meant him no harm did not mean no one else did. 

"Thor," he greeted in a voice raspy from disuse and screaming, as well as from the smoke he'd inhaled, hinting that it was possible he'd been out for some time. 

The thunder god grabbed a glass and poured some cool water into it, handing it to Loki. The Trickster took it, finding, to his surprise, that he was completely free. He did, however, catch sight of his right hand. It was completely bandaged, stained faintly with blood and Loki made a disgusted face. He tested it and then recoiled slightly upon realizing that he could not move it. Loki looked up in startled fear at Thor, the stunned look making him seem decades younger, begging for an explanation.

Thor shook his head slowly, "The wound was bad enough that it destroyed several of your nerves, the ones that control finger movement." His speech hinted that he'd been told this himself to tell Loki and certainly lacked the eloquence that a healer's would have possessed. "You might gain back some control over your thumb and possibly your little finger but," Thor sighed, "I'm sorry, Loki."

Green eyes turned dull as he gazed down at his banded appendage, shocked. He was a sorcerer, who relied so strongly on his hands as a conductor of his magic and to have one - his dominant hand, despite being very ambidextrous - taken away from him like that stunned him to his core. He sipped at the water slowly, letting it soothe his aching throat. 

"How long was I out?" He questioned of the heir of Asgard, pulling himself up to sit. 

"Three days," Thor replied. "Loki, what happened?"

The dark god took several sips of the water first, then sighed. "I was ambushed on Muspelheim, by two huge fire demons. I was too low on magic to teleport out, I've been...using a lot of it lately, so I fought them. And, as you can see, lost."

"You had no one to assist you?" Thor asked, frowning and Loki wanted to sigh again and then did.

"Not everyone is you, Thor, with hundreds willing to fight and die alongside you. My list of allies grows thin." His chuckle came out as a pained rasp from his throat.

Loki made to run his right hand through his hair only to stop and lower it again, sighing angrily. He had taken a gamble in coming here, knowing that he ran so many risks. He was still a wanted criminal, with outstanding charges on at least three realms, including Asgard. So far as he knew, his crimes here included but were not limited to the attempted murder several times over of the crown price; treason; escaping from prison; evading capture; and many more. Loki glanced carefully at Thor.

"I'm still alive," he commented, not quite a question but definitely wanting information.

Thor hesitated, staring at Loki. "Yes," he agreed with a nod, moving to sit down beside the younger god. "We've been keeping up with you as best we can and Father called off the...well, the kill on sight order."

Loki nodded but did not miss the careful wording. Over the last nine decades, give or take a year, he had been very quiet. After Maria had passed on, Loki had left the Nine and had roamed in the Skrull empire aimlessly, having lost his grounding agent in life. He had only returned to the Nine about four decades earlier - a long time for a mortal, but to Loki is seemed only a blink.

"I suppose, then, that I will not be permitted to leave?" He questioned, looking down at the glass of water in his left hand.

Thor shook his head, "No, I think you'll be allowed. Father knows that you suffered a loss. I think so long as you behave, he'll let you leave. But Loki, you need to rest. Stay for a week. Just to rest and recover your strength."

_Can I afford that? This is enemy territory, not my home anymore. Can I afford to stay here for a week, injured and weak?_  He did not know and it scared him to consider it. When not roaming listlessly, Loki stayed with some friends on Alfheim, as the elves had always been good to him. And yet, the idea of staying for a bit on Asgard soothed him a bit; he had always kept his deep love for her.  _I can see mother whilst here as well_ , Loki decided and nodded.

"Very well. A week and no longer." Barely had he got the words out before a feminine voice rang out.

"Loki!"

His head snapped up at the familiar voice and Loki was on his feet, moving towards Frigga even as the queen came to him. She engulfed him in her arms gently, taking care not to aggravate his injured form anymore than it already was. Loki slid his arms around her, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply.

"Mother," he breathed. "Oh, it's so good to see you."

She cupped his face in her hands, turning his head side to side to really look at him. "Oh, you're so thin," she murmured, sighing. 

Loki smiled, helpless against her words because they were true. Her hands were cool on his face and soothed his soul greatly and for a moment, he simply closed his eyes and enjoyed her touch. Yet he did not miss the presence behind her and opened his eyes to look at the Allfather, tensing beneath Frigga's gentle hands.

Odin walked forward slowly, regal despite his age and height in comparison to Loki and Thor. "Loki," he greeted quietly, single eye staring unwaveringly at the boy he'd raised as his own for millenia. 

If he had not been so exhausted, Loki might have knelt mockingly just to be a little shit, as Maria had been fond of calling him. As it was, he simply nodded a bit to the king. "Allfather," he replied quietly, comforted by Frigga's hand on his arm. Yet Loki was tense and all of them could see it; his eyes flicked for escape routes, looking for a way to get away should things suddenly go south. Just because the crowned prince had said he'd be safe while here meant nothing; if the Allfather wanted him arrested, then arrested he would be.

Odin came forward slowly, hand extended, and Loki didn't realize that he was both trembling and holding his breath until the king touched his face and Loki let out a shuddering sigh. He did not, per se, fear the Allfather but Loki had enjoyed not being outright hunted for the past several decades. Now, he recognized that he stood in a very precarious situation; he was injured and weak, exhausted from the fight, with his magic hindered now because of the terrible wound to his hand. If the Allfather chose not to be merciful, then Loki was finished.

Yet the blunt fingers only stroked his face lightly and despite himself, despite everything, Loki found himself listing into that touch, head following it, aching for anything that would even pose as approval. Odin smiled just a bit.

"You have no need to fear, Loki. Stay as long as you wish. You can leave when you want and no one will stop you," he said gently, still cupping one side of Loki's gaunt face.

"Why?" The younger god whispered, pleading.

"Because you've lost enough." It came so simply and broke Loki's heart and he shuddered from head to toe. 

Over the last nearly ninety years, he had done his best to not think about Maria's death. He had tried to put it from his mind and not think too hard on his loss and yet every day he had thought of her. Every time he laid down to sleep he had missed her steady presence. He had found himself finding something that had made him smile and had often turned as though to get her attention to it and she had not been there. Loki had been utterly celibate since she'd died, having no desire to be with anyone else.

Odin's gentle words broke the dam that he'd built and a sob caught in his throat as he broke down, legs giving way to force him down and his family joined him as he wept for what had been lost.

\--

The news that Loki was, in fact, back on Asgard, traveled fast around the realm and it did not take long before the Warriors Three and Sif came calling to the healing chambers, where he remained. He had been there five days total - three unconscious, two conscious - and had quietly refused his old chambers, knowing that if he went back to those that he likely would be more unwilling to leave them.

Loki looked up as the doors opened and four sets of familiar footsteps came to his ears. Sif and Hogun, who had openly never liked or trusted him, looked far less than pleased to see him; Volstagg and Fandral, who had never minded his company, and in Fandral's case, had openly welcomed it many times, simply looked concerned. Loki stood from where he'd been allowing a healer to rebandage a particular bad burn on his shoulder, where the light metal he'd been wearing had burned him so severely that part of it had stuck to his skin, though stayed still to let her do her job still.

He greeted them with a simple but somewhat curt nod but said nothing, waiting for Sif to lay into him - which she did, as he'd suspected.

"You should be in a prison cell, not sitting here being treated," she spat as they came closer, eyes dark with rage. 

"The Allfather seems to disagree with you, for here I am," Loki said quietly, grimacing a bit at the tug on his skin from the tight bandage. 

Sif hissed in anger at him but Volstagg spoke calmly, "Thor said you were attacked. Why come here? I mean, knowing the risk?"

Loki very nearly shrugged but caught himself at the last minute. "I have no other allies. None, at least, with a bridge to directly get me to safety and an all-seeing, all-hearing guardian of said bridge."

"A bridge you destroyed," Sif snapped.

"Actually, that was Thor's doing, not mine, and over a century ago. Not an issue anymore. I would request that you not be a bitch to me, but it seems like that is your default setting when it comes to me," he grinned at her, a flash of the old Loki showing through the exhausted shell of a man.

Sif moved towards him but Fandral caught her arm, looking down at her with a frown. "Sif, enough. We were told not to provoke and that's all you're doing."

One dark brow of the former prince rose, "Oh were you? I assume Odin told you not to 'provoke' me? Don't want the villain going bad again, do we?"

Fandral frowned at him but Loki held his former lover's gaze calmly, unwavering until the other man looked away. "What do you want?" Loki asked, tired of playing games with them now. He was tired and wanted to continue resting to recover his strength and get out of here as soon as he could.

"We just wanted to see you," Fandral said softly. "Thor told us how badly you were hurt. How is your hand?" The true concern in his voice should have touched Loki; all it did instead was rake at his stretched nerves.

Loki looked down at his useless right hand and grimaced, shaking his head a bit. "It's not likely I'll regain any use from it," he informed the blond quietly. "They said I was lucky to even keep the fingers, for all the good it does me now to have them."

They did not have to ask what had happened. That he had been ambushed by fire demons had spread through Asgard and the news that he'd been badly hurt had gone around as well. Likely Thor had told his four closest friends the details of what had happened, explaining how Fandral had known about his hand. 

"What will that do to your...magic?" Hogun asked and even after thousands of years, he still made the word 'magic' sound like the filthiest of swears to be uttered.

Loki drew his upper lip up into a sneer that exposed three teeth, a warning. "That is none of your business," he replied curtly. "I think you four have overstayed your welcome. Leave me. I wish to rest now so as to leave sooner."

They left as he ordered, Fandral glancing over his shoulder at him and then the doors shut, leaving him alone with the healers again. Loki sighed, looking down at his hand again and let his shoulders slump in disappointment.

\--

Loki sat at the window, gazing out over a scene that he had never thought he'd see again. The healing rooms were above a place where children often came to play, as there were swings and other playground equipment down there. Because his skill in magic had made him such a valuable asset in the healing rooms, Loki had been in here often and between helping people he had sat at this window and watched children as they played. He did so now, noticing the chill in the air. It was getting close to Yule, then, when the coldest months came.

Soft footsteps coming his way made Loki look up and he smiled upon seeing Frigga, who came and sat down beside him. She looked regal in a dress and robes of palest yellow, complimenting her delicate features.

"Seeing you sitting here, I can almost pretend that it's just another day of you being here, helping the healers," she said with a sigh. "I can almost pretend that all of those things did not happen. That you never found out or, better, that we'd been honest with you from the start and told you outright. That you never fell like you did. That you aren't so lost to us."

Loki uttered a half-hearted laugh, shaking his head. "Hel of a way to start a conversation, Mother," he chuckled to her but the mirth faded fast.

She smiled, sadly, and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. "I can almost pretend. Then I see your eyes, Loki. You used to have such soft eyes, such warm eyes, so full of life and mischief. Your eyes used to smile more than your lips did. Now all I see is pain and anger in your eyes, Loki. What happened to my smiling boy?"

Loki swallowed, looking down with anguish sharp in his gaze at her words. "He grew up, Mother, and learned that there was more to the world than gilded halls and lovely gardens." A glance out the window made his jaws tighten a bit. "More to the world than healing rooms where no one dies and a playground full of laughing children. He grew up and learned that the world is harsh and cruel and unforgiving and that the only want to live in that world is to be as harsh and cruel and unforgiving as it is."

Frigga shook her head slowly, sighing. "We should have told you from the start, Loki. I wanted to, I wanted to tell you, so you wouldn't live a lie your entire life and I just could not convince Odin. We could have spared you so much pain, son, and I am so sorry."

"Does it matter now? Truly? What's done is done. It's happened and it's over and we've all paid the cost." Loki did not deal in what-ifs. All those did was to hurt worse, he'd learned. 

The queen placed a soft hand on his shoulder, gaze warm. "I'm so sorry about your lover, Loki," she whispered, her voice very sad.

His eyes fell shut at mention of Maria, a shaky breath entering then leaving him. "She was mortal. It would have happened sooner or later. There was nothing I could have done to do that." Maria had refused an apple early on, to his disappointment but he had not fought her on it. 

"Knowing all of that does nothing to help the pain," Frigga said softly, rubbing his shoulder slowly. 

"No," Loki murmured, "no, it doesn't." An apple could not be given to a person if they did not want one. It was one of their fundamental laws; if a person wanted to refuse an apple, it could not be forced. He had offered her an apple, had given her a piece or two of one the time he'd rescued her from HYDRA, when she'd been literally dying in his arms, but she'd never accepted an entire one. It would have elongated her life, given her the chance to live alongside him but she had wanted to die a mortal. Even though it meant leaving him.

"Where will you go, Loki? After you leave here?" came Frigga's next question and he sighed.

"I know not, yet. Perhaps to Vanaheim. I would like to see Sigyn's grave again." The mention of his deceased wife did not hurt quite as badly as it would have a few hundreds years prior. Time did heal wounds, Loki knew. He missed Sigyn terribly, despite having seen her in dreams before Maria had died. They had been able to really say their farewells and as such, Sigyn had gone on to a more peaceful rest than she'd had before.

"I've been staying on Alfheim when I haven't been traveling. The elves have always been kind to me." Loki took a calculated risk in telling her that; the order had been to capture on sight so as to deliver him back to Asgard, where he would have been facing his death at the hands of the Allfather. But the elves had always enjoyed Loki's company and had always found him to be a better person than much of his family and so had taken the chance in keeping him concealed and he was grateful to them for that.

"Yes, we know," Frigga said.

Loki jerked around and stared at her, confused. "What?"

The queen chuckled softly. "We know. Lord Frey told me the last time I went to visit him that you'd been staying on Alfheim now and then. He wanted to know if I wanted to be told next time so that they could capture you. I told him no, that there was no need. Odin agreed with my choice."

Loki blinked, confused and stunned. He had assumed that his staying on Alfheim had gone unnoticed except by the elves, he had not realized that Frey had known about him being there. "How long ago was this?"

Frigga considered the question briefly, "Three decades, perhaps."

_So the orders to capture me have been off for three decades? Strange_. Loki had thought that he'd be a wanted criminal for the rest of his life and it was possible that he would be anyway. He was still wanted on Midgard, after all. 

"The Allfather wants to talk to you, Loki. But only if you want to talk to--"

"No," Loki said curtly, cutting her off midsentence. "I have no desire to speak with the Allfather anymore than we've spoken already. I have nothing to say to him and he has nothing to say to me worth speaking of."

Frigga sighed but nodded, having expected that. She was not such a hopeless fool as to think that they would repair their relationship with Loki injured and tensed to strike out should things not go his way. She knew that as soon as he was strong enough, Loki would leave and that it was likely the last time she'd ever see him. The look in his eyes told her quite clearly that he was losing all desire to live.

After a while, the queen stood, kissed his temple, and silently left.

\--

The darkness of Asgard's nights were broken up only by the stunning display that was put on overhead in the celestial boundaries. Loki stood silently on the balcony of the healing rooms, leaning against the marble railing and staring down at the Bifrost, which lay quiet tonight. His expression had been dull the entire day, knowing that he was leaving soon, and remained lackluster even now. When they had fixed it, the former prince of Asgard could not begin to guess. The night was quiet around him, for which he was grateful. 

A step behind him alerted him to Thor's approach and he was not surprised when the elder god came to stand beside him. "Loki," the prince greeted softly when Loki looked over at him.

"Thor," Loki returned evenly, returning his gaze to sweep over Asgard. He intended this to be his last night here, having been here a total of ten days, including the three that he'd been totally unconscious for. Loki knew that Thor knew that as well. He had recovered well, though he had had Thor bring him a glove, which he now wore over his right hand. The scarring on it had become hideous to view. 

"How did Maria die?" Thor asked suddenly, looking over at Loki and turning to face him.

The younger god cringed, looking down at the ground. Her death had been difficult for him to comprehend because he would never die of what she had died from. "Old age."

He could see on Thor's expression too that Thor had no real comprehension of that as well. "I see," he said slowly, though his voice was thick with confusion. "I'm sorry about that. You know Tony Stark and Clint Barton have passed as well? Some of the other older SHIELD agents have as well."

"Yes, I know," Loki said quietly. They had been heroes but even heroes died.

For a very long moment they were silent, Loki staring down at the ground and Thor watching him. Then, "Where have you been, Loki? I mean, really. We know you left the Nine for a while and we know you've been from realm to realm but wh-where have you been?"

Loki looked up slowly and the expression on his face was not that of a hardened man who had willingly walked the path of a villain - instead, it was the sad look of a man whose rock had been swept out from under his feet by seething ocean waves. Loki shook his head slowly, turned away and paced a few strides away. Thor could see him shaking a bit.

"You've never been lost, Thor, and for that, I am envious. Your three days on Midgard...nothing,  _nothing_  compared to what I have suffered. You cannot imagine what it is like to drift, to be detached from everything and everyone you have ever loved. You cannot imagine the pain of falling, the pain of seeing your home shrinking before you eyes and  _knowing_  that you will  _never_  again see it."

"Loki..." Thor tried but Loki held up a hand.

"No, don't. Because you can't and we both know it. Everything you have ever needed or wanted has been given to you on a golden platter, Thor. You were crown prince, beloved by all, with thousands willing to take up arms for and with you. You have never  _ever_  been the second best. You've never had to stand and listen to whispers that you were nothing but the second best."

Loki drew in a shaking breath, tears welling in his eyes that he blinked roughly away. "You've never felt the pain of knowing that everyone you consider a friend only looks out for you because your older brother would be angry otherwise. You have been loved, from the very moment you were born."

Pain seared across the face of the Thunderer; he knew Loki was right, after all. "I know, Loki. And I'm so sorry. Truly."

"I know you are, Thor," Loki sighed, knowing he had to answer the question. "I left the Nine after Maria was laid to rest. There was no reason for me to stay here anymore. There still isn't. I left and I explored. I found and killed many Chitauri. Not all of them, but many, enough that it made a dent. And I killed the Other. I could not find the Mad Titan." 

Thor blinked, surprised. They had only known that Loki had left the Nine, something only he had the power to willingly do, but had not realized that his brother had gone on a witch-hunt. "What were you doing on Muspelheim?"

That question went unanswered for a long moment, and when it came, Loki's voice was but a whisper. "Nothing important. Just...exploring."

"Loki," Thor said in his softest voice, reaching out to touch the younger god's arm. "Tell me you're not running around looking for someone to kill you. Please."

Loki stared calmly at Thor, expressionless, eyes lost. "You know the answer to that, Thor."

Thor did, of course; this was a Loki that was not desperate and mad. Instead, it was a Loki who had lost everything he'd cared about and saw no reason to continue living. It was a Loki who recognized that his life was coming swiftly to an end and saw no reason to fight against the inevitable and Thor wondered when he'd hear the news of Loki's death. 

"Where will you go now?" came the next question.

Loki looked off into the distance, gaze dull. "Vanaheim, perhaps. I would see Sigyn's grave again. Beyond that, I do not know." He planned on returning to Midgard soon, within the next decade. He suspected that Midgard would be his last stop.

Thor moved forward slowly, as though anticipating Loki bolting. The hand that rested on the younger god's arm slid up to cup the back of his neck in a familiar embrace and rendered Loki quietly pliant; a weakness Thor knew well. Gently, he tugged Loki into his arms, engulfing the Trickster in a warm hug. For a moment, Loki stood rigid and still, then slowly sunk into the embrace and hid his face against Thor's shoulder, inhaling that familiar scent and for just a moment, allowing himself to reflect that maybe not all was lost.


End file.
